


Him

by everythingisgreenandsubmarine



Category: Pink Floyd
Genre: Eventual Smut, Fluff, M/M, Vulgar Language, dave is rejected but that changes later on :), roger is a prideful little shit, they fall in love or whatever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 10:33:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17078678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythingisgreenandsubmarine/pseuds/everythingisgreenandsubmarine
Summary: No matter how much David tries to help, Roger’s pride must always get in the way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No matter how much David tries to help, Roger’s pride must always get in the way.

_August of 1968_

 

 

”Hey you.” 

 

Roger looked up from the porch stairs he was sitting on, to see David coming in through the gate at the front of the house the four men shared. 

 

“Hey.” 

 

David crossed the front yard to approach him, and sat next to him on the stairs. 

 

“Where were you?” Roger carelessly asked, and took a drag off his joint.

”Doctor’s appointment. For a check-up.” 

“And?” 

“Turns out I’m healthy as a horse.” 

“Hm.” 

 

David observed him, and just felt a vibe that something was  _off_ with Roger. He could usually feel things like that when it came to Roger. He decided to not jump in and ask him immediately, but instead chose to slowly bring it up as their small talk went on. 

 

“What’re  _you_ doing out here?” David asked in a slow, careful tone. 

 

Roger held up his joint to get his point across. 

 

“Why not smoke it inside?” David asked. 

“Rick’s always bitchin’ that the smell lingers.” 

“Oh,” David lamely answered, not really being able to think of a good answer to that. 

 

Roger tapped David’s knee, and offered his half-smoked joint. 

 

“No, I’m taking a break. Makes me sluggish,” David politely declined. “Are Nick and Rick inside?” 

“No, erm, Rick’s at a mate’s house, and Nick’s with Lindy.” 

“Oh,” he replied again. 

 

After a few moments of silence, David patted his back and finally asked, “are you okay?” He tried to sound as casual as he could. 

 

“Yeah,” Roger distantly replied, without making eye contact. 

“Are you sure?” 

 

Roger turned to look at him with an expression that said ‘do we really have to talk about this?’ Then, he looked away and said, “yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“I don’t know...you’re usually giving me some harsh remark about anything. But you’re being quiet now. Why’s that?” 

 

Roger let out a breathy chuckle, “I’m stoned, Dave.” 

“Stoned or not, you’re still a prick to me always.” 

 

Roger simply took another drag off his joint. 

 

“See? You’re not even defending yourself.” 

 

Roger chuckled again. David shook his shoulder lightly, and whined, “what is it? Tell me.” 

“Why do you wanna know? You’re just...David.” 

“‘Cause...you’re my mate and now I feel somewhat uneasy because something’s bothering you and you just won’t tell me  _what_.” 

 

Roger was touched by his words, but didn’t dare show it. “I’m fine.” 

“That’s such a typical ‘Roger’ thing to say. Why won’t you tell me?” 

“‘Cause...”

”’Cause...what?” 

“There’s no use.” 

“Yes, there is. I could help you.” 

Roger scoffed, “no, you can’t.” 

“And why not?” 

“‘Cause...’cause...” 

“I may be three years younger than you, but that doesn’t mean I’m lesser than you. Now let me help you,” David sort of scolded him. 

 

Roger very much hesitated, and stared off into the distance. 

 

“C’mon, Rog,” David softly encouraged him. 

 

Roger knew he was eventually going to give in, so he thought,  _might as well._

 

“...Uh...erm...I...you know I proposed to Jude, right?”

”Yeah, I remember.” 

“And we were planning the wedding and everything.” 

“...Uh-huh.” 

“Yeah, well...it seems that...it’s not gonna happen anymore,” Roger quietly said. 

“Oh...um...” David looked at him, “you two split?” 

Roger slowly nodded, “...yes.” 

“When?”

”Couple days ago.” 

 

_And you didn’t say anything? Why do you always keep things to yourself? You constantly bring yourself down. You think nobody cares about you, but if only you knew, Rog. If only you knew..._

 

“Oh...” David watched as Roger took slow hits off of his practically finished joint. 

 

“Wow, um...it seems like I really  _can’t_ help you with that. Erm...I’m sorry, Rog. That really blows.” 

 

Roger let out a sad chuckle, “yeah.” 

 

David sighed, and patted his back, “you’ll be alright. I promise. You’ll be okay. Any kind of separation from someone is terrible, but...you’ll be alright, Rog. I know you will.” 

“Thanks,” Roger mumbled. 

 

David smiled lightly because he knew Roger was prideful, and seeing him get even a little vulnerable, was always a special and rare thing. 

 

He took his hand away, “you’re welcome.” 

 

A pause. 

 

“Is there any way I can make you feel less like shit?” David offered. 

Roger slightly shook his head. “Don’t think there is,” he murmured. 

 

David grew quiet, as an idea popped into his head, but he was too afraid to express it. Out of impulse, David leaned into Roger, and placed a rather ardent kiss on his cheek. Roger widened his eyes, and looked over at him to find David blushing madly. 

 

No words were spoken between them at that moment. Only an intense stare took place. 

 

Suddenly, Roger began to slowly scowl. 

 

“Don’t ever pull shit like that again,” Roger muttered. He abruptly stood up, tossed his joint, and went back inside the house behind them. 

 

David did not feel ashamed or embarrassed. He simply sighed sadly. He did not feel embarrassed because he has been wanting to do that for a while now. There was no regrets. 

 

He went inside the house, after a few minutes alone. 

 

 

 


	2. New Realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe Roger is willing to finally put aside his pride. For David.

_May of 1969_

 

 

He stared at the two, little, white pills on the palm of his right hand.

 

A young girl backstage—most likely a groupie—had come up behind him, and stuffed the two pills into his hand. He gasped, and turned around to look back at her, as she was walking away, looking at him with a wicked smile. Leaving him dumbstruck, and absolutely curious about what this girl had placed in his hand.

 

This resulted in him being where he was now. In a stall inside the men’s restroom, holding the pills in his hand. Even though he knew he shouldn’t, he so badly wanted to take them into his mouth and swallow. And he didn’t even _know_ what kind of pills they were.

 

The band was scheduled to go on stage in about seven minutes, he knew that, but _fuck it_ , why not have a little fun?

 

Without hesitation—and out of impulse, really—he threw the pills into his mouth, and swallowed hard with a grimace. They tasted intensely of plastic, and of something else that David couldn’t quite put his finger on.

 

He swiftly left the restroom, and walked down the hall to the band’s dressing room. Upon entering, he saw Nick on a couch, reading a magazine from the coffee table. Rick was on an armchair, smoking the usual pre-gig cigarette. And Roger seemed to be having a conversation with Steve, the band’s manager. David walked in, and plopped himself down on the couch beside Nick.

 

“Rick, still get the jitters?” David noticed Rick’s shaky hands.

“Don’t _you_?” Rick retorted with a frown, then looked away with the same frown still glued to his face.

 

Roger glanced over at the two at the sound of Rick’s retaliation.

 

“Don’t blow a fuse now, Rick.” Roger butted in, ending his conversation with Steve, and walking over to sit on the chair next to Rick’s.

 

There was a few seconds of eye contact between Roger and David, but like always, Roger broke it and was the first one to look away. Things were still a bit awkward between them, ever since David not-so-subtly expressed his interest and fondness for Roger the previous year. There was tension between them, some of it slightly sexual. For David, it was unbearable. And Roger didn’t know what to think of it.

 

“We need you for the gig,” Roger added, teasing him.

 

A little snicker escaped from Nick, who didn’t look up from his magazine.

 

Roger smiled tauntingly. “Let me bum one,” he pointed at the cigarette box on Rick’s lap. Rick—ever so quiet when it comes to retaliating back at _Roger_ —sighed heavily, and threw the Marlboro box at Roger.

 

David gazed—no, _swooned_  over Roger, as Roger coolly lit a cigarette, and took long drags.

 

_He doesn’t even know how fucking beautiful he is. Oblivious fuck. Why can’t you notice me?_

 

He looked away, lest anyone saw his drooling over the one he wanted so badly. The one he desired, the one he _ached_ for. The one who appeared in his (wet) dreams, and kept him up at night, as David pulls on his cock in utter desperation and need.

 

_When the hell are these pills gonna hit me?_

 

One of their roadies popped his head into the room. “Alright, boys! You’re on!”

 

The four men stormed out of the room. They walked furthur down the hall, towards the stage, adrenaline beginning to rise up within them. They could hear the roaring of the crowd get louder and louder as they got closer and closer. They all looked at each other, and grinned, relishing the awareness of what was about to come in just a few more steps.

 

Most importantly though, Roger and David finally looked at each other again. David gave him a little smile. And Roger genuinely smiled back, making David’s heart rate accelerate. He felt his cheeks grow hot, and his knees weaken.

 

_Why does this always happen to me?_

 

The audiences’ cheers grew even louder when the band appeared on stage, waving at their beloved fans. They went to their places, and almost immediately began to play the first song from their setlist.

 

•••

 

The four musicians played through half of the set very smoothly. At that point, David had completely forgotten that he had taken the pills. He played the right chords, his little solos were played perfectly. He even improvised a few times here and there. But it wasn’t until the fourteenth song that he started to feel just slightly hazy. It was then that he remembered his little crisis in the restroom from earlier.

 

This hazy feeling wasn’t that bad, no. He wasn’t complaining. He found it even more enjoyable as it grew slightly more and more intense by the minute.

 

Halfway through the fifteenth song, it hit David so powerfully.

 

Suddenly, everything around him seemed so bright in color. He could hear everything so clearly. The roaring music, the claps and cheers and whistles, his own heartbeat. He felt so warm and fuzzy inside, but his body felt completely numb. He liked this feeling. This feeling of extreme euphoria and bliss. He wanted to hug and kiss everyone. He wanted to hug and kiss Roger. He felt so overwhelmed with this feeling of elation, he smiled widely at nothing.

 

He probably looked like a moron, he thought, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything at the moment.

 

They ended the song a little off, because David had messed up a bit, causing Roger to glance over at him with a small frown, but shrugging it off shortly after. David reached up and rubbed his cheek, finding it to be incredibly soft. Why couldn’t anyone feel how soft he was?

 

“Alright, we’ve got one more song for you blokes!” Roger said into the microphone, “then it’s goodnight for us.”

 

The crowd cheered once again, before they began to play the last song of the night. Or David _tried_  to play the song.

His arms and hands didn’t seem to work. His fingers wouldn’t play what he wanted them to. And all he could think about, was that his legs felt like jelly. He giggled out loud at that over the loud music.

 

Throughout the song, he missed a lot of chords, or wouldn’t actually play them. Roger shot glares at him, but David wasn’t aware of anything. Roger clenched his jaw when David would sing into the microphone, and his words came out slurred and indiscernible. Or when David wouldn’t sing at all. He cringed every time David hit a sour note in his guitar playing. Nick and Rick would look at each other with concerned faces. And Roger was angry.

 

“Thank you. Goodnight,” Roger calmly said, trying not to lose his temper right then and there.

 

Once they were all in their dressing room, with David swaying and all wobbly, Roger suddenly shoved David, causing the other to almost stagger back.

 

“What the fuck was that out there, Gilmour!? What the fuck was that!?”

 

David only stared up at him with an innocent, but puzzled expression. “Wh—“

 

Roger shoved him again. “—Just what in the _hell_  were you thinking!?”

 

Nick quickly came in between them, and lightly pushed Roger back. “Alright alright, boys. No need to quarrel now, alright?”

 

Roger kept glaring at the one behind Nick. “Un-fucking-believable,” he muttered. “I’m fucking leaving.” He swiftly left the room to find a taxi to take him back to the hotel they were staying at.

“Wh-what’s up with him?” David slurred, “he s-swears too much.”

Nick and Rick didn’t even ask him why he did what he did, or why he was slurring and swaying and giggling at everything. They simply took a taxi together to the hotel.

 

On the drive to the hotel, a small wave of nausea washed through David, and he started to feel little stomach cramps. He clutched his stomach, and grimaced lightly, but kept quiet about it.

 

•••

 

Once David arrived in his hotel room, he ran to the bathroom and vomited in the toilet, getting there just on time. He groaned, and sat back against the bathtub. His heart was beating rapidly, and the stomach cramps began again.

 

He grunted, and clutched his stomach again. He moaned in pain, and clutched his stomach harder.

 

He threw up a second time. His dizziness became too much for him to bear, and he knocked out right there against the bathtub, with his head leaning back against the shower’s sliding doors.

 

About an hour later, there was a knock on David’s door.

 

After receiving no response, Roger knocked three more times. Growing irritated, he knocked harder, not caring if he woke up anybody in the hallway.

 

“C’mon, Dave, open up,” he called out.

 

No response.

 

“C’mon! I know you’re in there, you bastard.”

 

He sighed, “look, I just have something I wanna say. I just wanna talk, yeah?” He softly said.

 

He raised his voice again, after he _tried_ to be gentle, “David, I swear to God, if you don’t open this fucking door, I will—“

 

He was suddenly cut off, when he reached down to grab the doorknob and turn, and found that it was unlocked. He let out a small gasp, and pushed open the wooden door.

 

He peeked inside, “...David?”

 

The room seemed to be empty. He went in, and was immediately engulfed by the darkness. He quietly shut the door.

 

Standing at the foot of the bed, he looked behind him, and that’s when he noticed the light coming out from under the bathroom door.

 

He slowly walked over to the front of the door. He softly knocked, “Dave? You in there, mate?”

 

No reply came from the other side of the door, which made Roger feel tinges of panic and anxiety and concern all simultaneously. Even if David did positively piss him off earlier, he still cared for his mate. He wanted David to be okay. He hoped for David to be okay. But obviously, he wouldn’t admit that he cared. Ever.

 

“Shit,” he muttered. He frantically twisted the metal doorknob, and pushed the door open.

 

There, on the floor, was David’s limp body sitting against the bathtub. Roger felt a rush of relief when he saw that David was still breathing. He went over to the toilet, and saw the vomit in the toilet water.

 

“Oh Dave, what’ve you been up to?” Roger murmured to himself.

 

He flushed the toilet, hoping that the noise of the flush would wake up David, so he wouldn’t have to...touch him?

 

He kneeled down beside David, “Dave?” He whispered.

 

 _Damn it_ , he thought.

 

He slowly—and timidly as well—reached over to him, and lightly tapped his right shoulder. He hadn’t realized that he was holding in his breath, until he exhaled heavily. “Dave?” He tried again.

 

No reply. Or even a small twitch. From far away, he could even pass as dead.

 

He tapped him harder, then lightly shook him.

 

“...Mmm...” David quietly moaned in his sleep.

Roger shook him just as hard again, “David? Wake up, man.”

“...Mm...mm...”

“C’mon, Dave. You gotta get up, mate.” Roger placed his hand on David’s forearm.

“...Mm...fuck off...” David quietly mumbled almost incoherently.

Roger sighed, “Dave, you moron, get up.” He wrapped his fingers around David’s bicep.

“Wha...?” David opened his eyes just slightly.

Roger gently pulled his arm up. “Get up, man.”

“What...” David turned his head to lazily look up at Roger, “...Rog?”

“Yeah, it’s me, mate. Now get up, c’mon, you’re a mess.”

 

David looked around, puzzled, as if he didn’t know where he was. “Wha...what...”

 

And for once, Roger put his pride aside.

 

He cupped David’s other bicep, and a bit under his armpit with his other hand, and hauled him up with all of the strength he could muster. He grunted as he did so, and held him tightly against the shower’s sliding doors. Face-to-face. Chests pressed together.

 

“Can you walk?” Roger hoarsely whispered.

 

David just heavily leaned his forehead against Roger’s cheek with a quiet, irritated moan.

 

“Well of course you can’t, you can’t even speak,” Roger murmured quietly to himself, seeing as David was just unable to form complete sentences.

 

Roger wrapped David’s arm around his own neck, and wrapped his own arm over around David’s lower back and to his waist to hold him up firmly.

 

“Man, what the fuck did you take?” Roger mumbled, as he guided David over to the bed.

 

David let out incomprehensible mumbles.

 

Roger rolled his eyes, “yeah yeah yeah, now get on the bed.”

 

He carefully laid David down on the bed with another grunt. David let out a huff as he fell on the bed.

 

“Christ, you weigh a literal ton,” Roger muttered as he was panting quietly.

 

He went over to the end of the bed again to pull off David’s boots and socks. He let both pairs of items fall to the ground with a thud. Then, he walked to the nightstand, and turned on the lamp.

 

He looked down at David below him.

 

He leaned in closer, and listened to David’s slow, deep breaths, as he had seemed to fall back asleep.

 

“David? David, wake up.” Again, he shook him.

 

This time, David opened his eyes, and drowsily looked up at Roger.

 

“Mm...Rog?” He mumbled, and squinted.

“Yeah, mate.”

 

Roger watched as David looked around again with a slight confused expression.

 

“Are you here, Dave?” Roger tried to joke.

 

It took a short moment for David to realize what Roger had just asked him. He lazily looked at Roger again, “what?” He slurred.

 

“You’re fucking gone, aren’t you?” Roger asked in a low voice. “Alcohol didn’t do this to you.”

 

David only fluttered his eyelashes, but not in the flirtatious manner. Far from that. He slightly frowned as well.

 

“You’re an idiot, Dave,” Roger calmly said. “Why would you do this to yourself? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

 

This was Roger’s way of saying, _I care about you, you dumb, dishy fool._

 

“Rog?”

“ _What_?” Roger snapped.

“...Don’t go.”

 

Roger stared in astonishment. His heart skipped a beat when David wrapped his hand around his wrist.

 

Roger hesitated, but then slightly nodded.

 

“Okay,” he whispered quietly.

“I...please don’t...please don’t leave me alone,” David slurred. “Not now. I...I need you.”

 

Roger very slowly moved his hand into David’s, and squeezed lightly. “Okay.”

 

Roger stared down at their hands for what seemed like forever. He liked how their hands looked, tightly intertwined together. His heart was beating quickly. He sighed.

 

“Dave, I—“

 

Roger looked up at David, but his bandmate was already asleep. He stopped short, and sighed again.

 

He slowly untangled their hands, and turned the lamp off. Then, he climbed onto the bed next to David. He pulled out his cigarette pack from his jean pocket, and pulled out a fag to light up. He placed his pack on the other nightstand on his side, and silently smoked his cigarette until all was left was the cigarette butt. He carelessly put it out on the surface of the nightstand. Finally, he laid down comfortably, and stared up at the ceiling.

 

Slowly, but surely, he began to drift off, as David’s deep, relaxed inhales and exhales lulled him to sleep.

 

His hand still felt a bit tingly from David’s tender touch.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger realizes how intense his new-found feelings are for David.

The next morning, David couldn’t remember anything from the previous night. He rolled over to his side to glance at the alarm clock with weary eyes. 

 

_10:15 AM_

 

He was usually up by eight o’ clock whenever they went on tour. He groaned out loud at the thought of getting out of bed. 

 

David sat up, all hunched over with his hair hanging down over his face. He felt hungover, but it didn’t feel like the type of hangover you get from having too many drinks, no. This was far more worse. He knew he didn’t have any drinks last night, but he did know what he had  _taken._

 

He remembered going to the men’s restroom at the venue they were playing at, and taking those pills. He remembered playing almost the entire set, and from then on, nothing. He couldn’t remember anything after that; his mind went blank. 

 

His mind suddenly went to the bitter taste in his mouth. The slight taste of vomit. 

 

_What the fuck?_

 

He slowly got out of bed with a heavy sigh, and made his way to the bathroom. He scoffed at himself when he saw his appearance in the mirror above the sink, and lazily undressed himself. He stepped into the bathtub to took a nice, much needed shower. 

 

After he stepped out and had a white towel wrapped around mid-hips, he brushed his teeth, put on Right Guard deodorant, and didn’t bother brushing his hair. Letting it dry naturally as well. 

 

He dressed himself in his usual attire, but added on a black jumper to his outfit.  As he was slipping on his mid-heel leather boots, he absentmindedly glanced to his right, and saw something that made him widen his eyes.

 

He got up, and walked over to the nightstand opposite from the side of the bed he had slept on. 

 

And there, lying on the surface of the nightstand, was a pack of cigarettes. Which he thought was odd. Part of that reason, was because he wasn’t really a cigarette smoker. Only occasionally, here and there, but he never buys  _actual, full_  cigarette packs.

 

But the main reason—or question—is, had someone come over to his room last night? 

 

He picked it up, and analyzed it. It felt just a little light. Without thought, he flipped open the pack, and his heart quickened at what he saw. 

 

There, under the opening, was a little note. Familar handwriting. And in his head, it suddenly clicked as to whose cigarettes they were. 

 

_To whomever finds                                       these...put ‘em back where they were!_

_\- G.R.W._

 

George Roger Waters. 

 

David repeated that name over and over in his head, not being able to believe it. He knew immediately right from the first glance at this note. 

 

Just a week ago—in yet another dressing room—Roger had sprung out of his seat to show this note (or warning, more like) to the band members, and to some of their roadies and general crew. Including their manager. 

 

“If I ever forget these somewhere...do not touch. Do you hear me?” He had announced to them, “do not touch my shit.” 

 

“Don’t touch your shit, don’t smoke your shit, alright, we get it,” Steve had exasperatedly said. 

 

And David had just smirked, and shrugged it off. 

 

But here he was, going through said thing. David’s mind was running with hundreds of scenarios of what could’ve happened last night. But he shut those thoughts off shortly after, not wanting to get his hopes up. 

 

He stuffed the pack of cigarettes into his jean pocket, and put on his sunglasses, not wanting everyone to see his tired eyes and make a comment. And also, everything seemed so bright and it irritated him. 

 

He left the room, sliding his room key into his other jean pocket. 

 

He headed down to the first floor by elevator, to the hotel’s buffet. At the far left of the buffet, he saw the others. In his hungover state, he slithered through the maze of tables, arriving at the somewhat big, round table, and taking a seat in between Nick and Roger.

Avoiding eye contact with Roger, who seemed to be staring at him. His stare made David’s cheeks flush, like always. 

 

“Ah, well, look who it is,” Nick said, “we thought you might’ve been dead.” 

 

“We’ve been here for nearly two hours. Where’ve you been?” Steve muttered, sipping his tea. 

“Sorry, I uh,” David rubbed his left temple in irritation, “I overslept. Bad night.” 

“I’ll say,” Nick smirked. “What are these for?” He snatched the sunglasses off David’s face, and put them on himself with a smile.

 

David groaned, and put his head down on the surface of the table. “Everything’s so fucking bright.” 

 

“That was quite a show you put on last night on stage, Dave,” Steve said in a slight condescending tone. “Mind telling me why?” 

 

David slowly lifted his head back up, eyebrows furrowed over the brightness of everything. “I um...s-sorry, I um...I apologize, Steve. Won’t happen again.” 

 

Steve brought his cup of tea back up to his lips, “...I didn’t ask for an apology...” He murmured behind the cup. 

David sighed in defeat, “I—“ 

“—It’s fine. But swear to me it won’t happen again, ‘cause that was bloody horrendous to watch.” 

“Yeah, I...I swear.” 

“Good.” 

 

“You have to take care of yourself, Dave, really,” Rick said in a soft voice, feeling bad for David. 

“I know. I know.” 

 

“Want some breakfast?” Nick asked David. 

“No, I’m feeling a bit nauseous.” 

“How about some clam chowder?” Steve smirked. 

 

Just the thought of clam chowder, absolutely  _disgusted_ David, and made him slightly more queasy. 

 

“God, no,” David complained, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes as a headache began to settle. 

 

Nick chortled along with Steve. “Why not? I thought you liked clam chowder.” 

“Please stop saying clam chowder.” 

“What about some oysters? Mmmm, doesn’t  _that_ sound good.” Steve stifled a laugh. Even Rick was now lightly smirking. 

“Please,” David murmured, finding their way of punishing him unamusing. 

“How about tea? I know how much you love your tea in the morning,” Nick went on. 

 

Even his  _favorite_ hot beverage disgusted him at the moment. David groaned again, and placed both hands over his face. 

 

“Alright, alright. That’s enough,” Roger stated. “He’s had enough. Leave him alone.” 

“Okay, okay,” Nick giggled one more time, and put his hands up as in to surrender. “Let’s talk about his night, then. Dave?” Nick looked over at him with a smirk. 

“I can’t even remember anything from last night,” David murmured from behind his palms. 

 

Roger’s ears perked right up.  _He_ definitely remembered last night. Remembered picking him up from the bathroom floor. Remembered having David’s face so close to his. Remembered how lovely it felt to have David’s body pressed tightly against his own. Remembered how warm David felt. Remembered the faint smell of David’s cologne, when David was clinging onto him in the bathroom. 

 

_You mean you don’t remember our little moment? Us, holding hands? How they looked so good clasped together? You, pleading me not to leave you alone? Me, sleeping in the same bed as you, as I tried so very hard not to reach over and caress your gorgeous face?_

 

“That’s what happens when you party too wildly,” Nick giggled.

”Consequences, consequences,” Steve added, and the two snickered together. 

 

David rolled his eyes at their making fun of him, and took his hands away from his face. 

 

Roger looked over at him, and felt like holding him tightly at the sight of his sad, little face. 

 

He leaned into David, and whispered in his ear, “want me to get you a cup of coffee?” 

 

David furtively shuddered at the feel of Roger’s hot breath against his ear. 

 

Blushing, he whispered back, “no, I’m okay.” 

 

Roger rolled his eyes at his stubbornness, and lightly squeezed his shoulder, “I’m gonna go get you coffee.” 

 

Somehow, coffee didn’t sound so bad at the moment. 

 

David watched Roger get up and leave to get his coffee. He watched from over his shoulder, as Roger suddenly had a mug in his hand, and went to the coffee machine. David smiled. He couldn’t help but muse over why Roger had suddenly become kind to him. 

 

_I wonder if he even knows that his cigarettes are missing._

 

Roger went back to the table, hot coffee in hand, and sat next to David again. “Here.” He placed the cup in front of David. “It’ll help.” 

 

“Thank you,” David mumbled, and slowly picked it up to take a sip. 

“You should sleep it off,” Roger abruptly said. “We don’t have a gig today. Go back to your room and sleep.” 

“That’s the plan,” David softly said, and carefully took another sip of the hot liquid. 

“Yeah. I’ll come visit you later, if you want.” 

 

_Yes, please._

 

“Alright.” David did a very good job at hiding his giddiness. 

 

When his coffee was done, the five of them stood up, ready to leave. 

 

“Where are you guys going?” David asked, as they walked into the lobby of the hotel. 

 

”To explore,” Nick innocently said with an enthusiastic smile. 

“Down to the shops,” Steve said. “We have the day off, as you know, and I think we need to fucking breathe.” Steve went out the glass doors, leaving the four men inside. 

“Mm-hm,” Rick uttered. “We need to fucking breathe alright.” 

 

“Right, well, I’ll uh...see you boys tomorrow, I suppose?” David said.

”Staying in today?” Nick asked him. 

“Yes. I very much need it.” 

“Mind if I keep these for the day, then?” Nick pointed at the sunglasses that were still over his eyes. 

“Oh, whatever.”

”Alright, then. See you.” 

 

The three of them started to walk out, when David spoke out again. 

 

“Wait, Rog?” David called out. 

 

And like if David was talking to all three of them, all three turned around. Like little puppies. 

 

“Can I...can I talk to you? Real fast?” He shyly said.

 

Roger stared at him with a slight puzzled face, “...sure.” He looked at Nick and Rick, “you guys go ahead.” 

 

The two looked at each other with eyebrows raised. Then, they shrugged and walked outside to join Steve, who seemed to be waiting for them. 

 

Roger went over in front of David, “yeah?” 

 

David suddenly found it difficult to form sentences, “uh...” 

 

“Is this...band related business?” Roger quietly asked him. 

“No,” David shook his head, “no.” 

“Oh.” 

 

Roger searched his face, trying to figure him out. But he never could. Ever since they first met in ‘65, Roger has been intrigued immensely over how mysterious this being in front of him was; how spontaneous he was. 

 

“Erm...is everything alright?” Roger inquired him.

”What? No, yeah. I’m fine. It’s just um...” 

 

David simply preferred to  _show_ him instead of  _telling_ him. 

 

He dug into his pocket, and pulled out the carton of cigarettes. He held it up, and paused momentarily. “...I believe these are yours.” 

 

Roger gulped down hard. 

 

 _Oh shit,_ he thought.  _Does he know? Does he actually know what happened last night, and he just pretended he didn’t?_

 

“Those aren’t mine.” He denied it. 

 

David flipped over the opening to show him the writing inside. “Yeah, they are.” 

 

And it was true, David really  _couldn’t_ remember anything, but finding these cigarettes was enough to make his heart pound, and make him feel warm inside. 

 

 _Damn it_ , he thought.  _Why did I write that?_

 

David stuffed the carton into Roger’s hand, brushing his fingers entirely against his own. “Remember to visit me later, yeah?” 

 

Roger only slightly nodded, staring at him with a gaze of just pure infatuation and lust, which amazed David. 

 

_God, what is David doing to me?_

 

“See you.” 

 

David turned around to leave—leaving Roger to think about why David had brought up his planned visit again—giving him a last, little grin over the shoulder as he walked away. 

 

Now,  _Roger’s_ own heart quickened at the sight of that nubile, adorable, but absolutely irresistible smile. 

 

He shyly reciprocated it, and felt the butterflies in his stomach take flight. 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for taking so long. I’ve had writer’s block and been busy. But here it is!

He slipped out of his deep slumber with a jerk. Whilst still half asleep and still feeling extremely drowsy, he thought he heard a knock that had, in fact, interrupted his dream. He waited, and there was, indeed, someone knocking on his door. He turned over to his side, glancing at the clock. It was almost ten at night.

 

_I really slept all day?_

 

Another knock interrupted his lethargic musings. He sat up with a groan, sleepily rubbing his eyes. He pushed his hair behind both ears, letting out a yawn. Yet, another knock, this one sounding like it had been with a little bit more force.

 

_Oh, right._

 

“Who is it?” David called out, rubbing his forehead as there was still a headache pulsing.

 

On the other side of the wooden door, there was Roger, feeling relief as he was beginning to think that there was something wrong with David again. He hesitated in answering, and even considered just going away and into the safety of his own room. He, then, scolded himself for being so abnormally shy, and decided he had nothing to lose.

 

“Uh…it’s me,” he replied, hopefully loud enough.

 

David’s ears perked right up, as he fixed his messy hair. Why? He didn’t know. He brought his knees up against his chest, resting his arms on top.

 

“Door’s open,” he softly replied, _also_ hoping that it was loud enough.

 

Roger gently turned the doorknob, cracking the door open enough to peek his head inside. “Did I wake you?” He asked as he went in, and softly closed the door behind him.

 

“Yes. It’s all right, though,” David replied as he rubbed his eyes again. He tried to ignore the fact that his heart had accelerated in speed.

 

Roger grabbed an armchair, and dragged it next to the bed, sitting on it and facing David. Roger stared at him while he scratched his head, marveling over how stunning he looked even after he’d just woken up.

 

“How are you feeling?” Roger asked, his heart also pounding against his chest.

“Slightly better. I don’t have to puke anymore,” he chuckled lightly. “My head still hurts.”

“Hm.” Roger frowned. “I bought you pills,” he dug into his pocket to take out a small packet containing two white pills. “Painkillers,” he specified.

“Oh,” David eyed the pills as they were handed to him. “Thanks,” he murmured, ripping open the packet, and taking them out onto the palm of his hand.

 

Roger stood up and crossed the room, to the small refrigerator across from the bed, under the television. He bent down, and opened it, looking into it for a few seconds, then pulling out a water bottle and a can of Budweiser. While he had been doing that, David’s eyes travelled down to Roger’s bum. He felt himself blush. There was that tantalizing strip of pale flesh at the hem of his black shirt. And the beautiful curves of both buttocks that his black trousers accentuated deliciously. He couldn’t look away, didn’t want to. But he did when Roger stood back up and went back towards the armchair after closing the small fridge.

He sat, and handed the water bottle to David for him to take the pills. He opened his can of beer, and took a sip.

 

“Thanks,” David mumbled again, swallowing down the pills along with water. His mouth had been dry, the refreshing water aiding his throat. He set the bottle down on the nightstand.

“Mm-hm,” Roger replied. He was never able to tell someone, anyone, _‘you’re welcome.’_

 

There was that frantic thought that he _had to_ make conversation with Roger. He scrambled in his mind for anything to say.

 

“What’d you do today? With the others,” he finally came up with.

“Um,” Roger started, glancing at the ceiling as the memories of what he did with the others flitted through his mind, his head tilted a bit. David couldn’t help but think that he looked pretty at that moment. “We went down to the shops, as you know. Took a taxi there, and um…we walked around, went to different shops. Nick bought a hat, and a fringe jacket. Though, I told him it was rather hideous.”

 

David giggled. Roger smiled, but at his delightful reaction, more than anything.

 

“Rick bought himself Electric Ladyland on vinyl,” he continued.

“I thought Rick wasn’t too keen on Hendrix,” David blurted.

“He wasn’t.”

“Changed his mind, did you?” David smiled.

“I did,” Roger nodded, smiling. “He’s gotta be bloody thick if he doesn’t think Jimi’s guitar licks are electrifying.”

“True, true.”

“Yeah. And then we lost Steve for a while,” Roger smirked, trying to stifle a chuckle.

“What? How?”

“I don’t know! He wandered off on his own.”

“Did you guys not take notice?” David was smiling widely, amused.

“No,” Roger chuckled once this time. “We found him later, though. In this homey diner that we ended up chowing down in.”

“Mm.”

“So, that was fun. Oh! And Rick also bought himself this _also_ rather revolting scarf.”

 

David laughed, shaking his head at Roger’s way of describing both Nick and Rick’s attire styles. He also found it nice how much Roger was talking. He was never the type to ramble on, only in the studio but always music related. Always, always.

 

“It _is_ Southampton, though. Always bleeding cold. So, I guess he has an excuse,” Roger added, smiling again.

 

It was the most David has ever seen him smile. It was the best thing.

 

“And you’ve been sleeping all day, have you?” Roger asked, now with a more neutral face. He placed his beer on the nightstand, next to David’s water.

“Yeah. I didn’t mean to, but…” He shrugged.

“Mm. Oh, also, we found this dingy guitar shop, but I saw this,” Roger reached into his pocket again, pulling out something too small for David to tell what it was. “And…it reminded me of you,” he now very quietly said, nervously clearing his throat.

 

David took it in his hand when it was handed over. As always, goosebumps appearing on his arms at the brush of their fingers. It was a light blue guitar plectrum, with a white peace sign as the small design.

He looked up at Roger with expectancy on his facial expression.

 

“I don’t know,” Roger mumbled. “It was just…I don’t know.”

 

David glanced down at it again, running his thumb over it. He looked away for a moment, wanting to ask him something, but hesitating because he was absolutely afraid that Roger wouldn’t want to answer. He didn’t want to appear foolish or weak for not getting an answer. Roger saw him look away and grew worried. He thought he messed up in giving it to him. There was regret lingering in him. He tapped his fingers nervously on his knee.

David looked back at him, and asked anyway.

 

“Why…why did it remind you of me?” It would gnaw at him if he didn’t ask. He had to.

 

Roger felt himself blush. Something so incredibly rare. He wanted to go away. Disappear. He felt so awkward. He could feel the shells of his ears grow hot.

 

“Um…” He bit at his lower lip so hard, hard enough to almost draw blood. “Because…I think you’re the most gentle person I know. So _peaceful_ , and um…I guess…I-I guess I admire that.”

 

 _Roger? Admiring_ me,  _David?_

 

“Rick’s gentle,” David blurted. His brain wasn’t working properly, going blank, so he uttered something totally irrelevant.

Roger actually chuckled. “That’s different. He’s a sissy.”

 

David smiled weakly, too nervous to actually laugh or genuinely smile or defend said bandmate.

Roger let out a _heh_ , looking down at his hands.

 

“Thank you,” David simply said. “I’ll use it tomorrow, for our gig.”

 

Roger nodded, not looking up. His beer, long forgotten. His confidence, teetering on almost being gone. A minute passed, as they both tried to come up with something to say. The room suddenly becoming  _unbearable_. Roger considered getting up, saying goodbye, and hastily leaving the room.

 

“Roger?”

 

He looked up.

 

“Do you want to go?” He softly asked.

Roger lightly frowned, and slightly shook his head. “No, why?” He said without thinking.

“You look like you do,” David smiled.

 

_It does? Christ. Do I look like a sodding idiot? I probably do._

 

“I’m sorry.”

David shook his head. “I’m not offended. You could, if you’d like.”

 

Part of him wanted to. The other part wanted to stay longer. The whole night, even. Probably.

 

“No, I…”

 

But he considered it. He wanted to stay to see what would happen, what they would do, what they would say to each other, if David invited him to sit on the bed with him. But it occurred to him that nothing would probably happen. He was afraid of anything happening. He wasn’t ready.

 

“Um…you know what, I’ll just…I’ll go,” Roger quietly said, standing up.

 

David stared up at him, waiting for him to say anything else. But Roger grabbed his beer, and pushed the armchair back to its place. Roger tried to push out of his head the expression David had made when he looked at him the way that he had. A little sad, expectant, just slightly surprised.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Roger said, looking back at him, in front of the door already and wrapping his long fingers around the doorknob.

“Yeah,” David nodded quickly, “yeah…”

“Okay,” he opened the door. Looking back at him, he showed a very small smile, “goodnight, Dave.”

David showed the exact smile. “Night, Rog.”

“All right,” he whispered, walking out and gently closing the door behind him.

 

David stared at the door, waiting for something, anything to happen. Possibly for Roger to open the door again and come back inside to stay longer. But nothing happened, as his inner voice expected.

He looked away, down at his hands. His headache was gone now.

 

 

 


End file.
